The Listener
by plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: A meditation on where they've been and where they're going—on Hijikata's promise to make Kondo the most esteemed samurai and one that Kondo makes in return. Kondo POV. [Established Kondo/Hijikata]


Thanks for checking this out! This story was inspired by that incredible final scene in the first episode of Reimeiroku, right before the credits begin. It gave me a million feelings and I wanted to add more to it, so here we are. :D

I wrote to the instrumental version of You Said You'd Grow Old With Me, an utterly gorgeous song. If you check out the version that has lyrics, I apologize in advance because it hurts...especially if you think about these guys. Agh~!

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 **.*The Listener*.**

Beneath a blanket of celestial glitter he stood with his arm ghosting beside mine, while fireflies sparkled gold in the distance and a gentle breeze feathered whispers against our skin. We stared out at the endless rhinestone sky, listening as if the stars could speak and we could decipher their words.

I heard them.

I know it sounds irrational, like a consequence of being caught up in the emotions of a significant occasion, but I swear there was a promise somewhere in those points of light. And when it reached me, my breath hitched. Inspiration swelled like a wayward seed taking root in my chest, and the feelings which bloomed from it swept over in waves: first awe, then determination, then resolve.

On that serene night filled with cricket song, I'd become convinced our names would one day be written in stellar ink on that astral tapestry...that the stories of our past, our present, our future—the stories of us—were destined to be immortalized there.

Someday, someone would know our names. They would recount all we'd done and all we'd achieved, and those tales would inflame the heartbeat of generations treading the footprints we left behind.

Staring off unblinking beyond the horizon, I'd never been more convinced than then that it _mattered_ , everything we managed to accomplish so far. Our dreams were admittedly absurd, our desires just as unattainable; even we laughed at them, yet...here, two men from Tama, stood together in samurai dressage on Kyoto soil, bathed in starlight and moonbeams and purpose.

It mattered. _We_ mattered. A difference had already been made and this was only just the beginning.

That's when Toshi spoke.

"Everything's changed so much." It was the tone he reserved for me—soft, like the silver glow spilling over us from the sky. "And it'll keep changing."

Foreigners arriving on boats of unthinkable scale, political unrest shaking up peace that lasted centuries, the pardoning of convicts to inflate the ranks, and farmers _—farmers!_ —serving the Bakufu...indeed, this was a different age with different rules.

Still, there were some constants that would never yield, no matter how much the times did. I closed my eyes for a moment and my mouth eased into a smile.

A pointer finger raised to trace along Toshi's pinky and then my hand slipped over to take his. Our digits entwined and I held on tightly without looking at him. "Some things never will."

He exhaled shortly and in the peripheral, I saw him nod. "I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah." A beat followed the breathy reply and his tone reclaimed its vitality. "Right now, what we need to think about most is making a name for ourselves here."

I hummed in agreement.

"And once we do that..." His grasp suddenly tightened to surpass mine.

At last, I faced him. His chin remained elevated, his eyes rife with fervor and still pointed toward the stars. "I _swear_ I'll make you this country's most exalted samurai." Toshi's dark lashes fell in a prolonged blink and when they parted again, he gazed toward the garden and his voice diminished back to a whisper. "That's why I'm here."

Silence followed, but the strength with which our hands stayed clasped never lessened.

And my mind, it was running rampant, wondering how any verbal response could possibly follow that caliber of selflessness, of boundless dedication...how the intensity of his grip could say so much without saying anything at all.

I could hear what he left unspoken, just as I heard the stars.

But when it came my turn to speak, I once more was left humbled by how little I was able. I'd never found the words to accurately express what I harbored for him, despite all the years we'd spent at each other's sides chasing the same wild dream. We were closer than ever now to achieving it and still, he deemed it necessary to assert that he put me before anything else.

I _knew_. I knew how he felt, and I wanted to believe he knew my regard mirrored his in equal.

I wanted to return that sentiment, that reassurance tenfold. I wanted to convey how deep my affection ran, that my adoration for him was just as unfathomable, that it was love, yes, but so much more. I wanted him to know that it wasn't about my victory, but both of ours—because no matter how far I might sail on the vast ocean of destiny, it was his fate to be right at my side.

Language was too empty for that though, and my voice nowhere near passionate enough. So, I resorted to what I always did when I was unsure. I said his name.

"Toshi."

The moment he turned to me, I became aware of how openly I wore my heart; taken aback, his eyes widened when they met mine and I watched as they instantly softened from there. He hadn't expected what he saw, the blotches of faint pink staining their way across his face confirming that and how he attempted to avert his attention, just to have it return to me.

I nodded once, reached up to brush his bangs aside, and everything slowed to a pause.

The vastly changing world, the state of our own country, the Serizawa-Niimi migraines, the dilemma of proving our worth here and creating that ever-enduring name...all of it faded away when my lips touched Toshi's.

It was chaste and controlled, the kiss; I tilted my head and his spine stiffened. But it was also rife with meaning I couldn't articulate otherwise, and long enough only for me to make a single wish.

 _Please understand what I'm saying._

Then, I pulled back.

We were outside, after all. Middle of the night or not, there were eleven others here beside us and that was without counting Yagi-san and his family.

"Sorry." I spoke first, not allowing him the opportunity to chastise me for kissing him publicly, even if I deserved it. My gaze was trained on the dark porch planks contrasting with our bare feet and another smile began inching its way upward when I imagined he would scold me anyway.

As I sought out his face again though, the irritation I anticipated was absent and in its place, something else: his eyes were determined, filled with a longing desire I'd come to know all too well—and more yet. Toshi's other hand raised, his fingertips clearly intent to seek purchase on my cheek and he leaned back toward me.

A stiff tug denied him and I pivoted, starting for the open shoji. "Inside."

He remained cemented in place, however, speechless while our arms extended from a distance that I found utterly unacceptable at this point. "You're...unfair."

"Sometimes," I breathed, and pulled again to coax him into following.

"Kat-chan, the tray—"

—could wait. I never left my belongings about, but right now, the necessity of putting my hands on him and having his on me was greater than worrying about leaving dishware on the porch for a short while. Hours separated sunrise from this moment and the teapot would surely forgive me.

"Later."

For once, Toshi relented and it wasn't long after when his hair fell around me and all I could smell and touch and taste and know was him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Raised as a farmer's son, it was in my nature to wake early—but the crash and shout were what had me jolting into awareness before dawn that day.

"Kya!"

 _Heisuke_. Unmistakably.

My eyes went as wide as Toshi's, both of us lying on our sides with the sleep not so gently rattled out of our heads. We stared at each other in half-dazed quietude while the tirade of grumbling began outside the closed shoji.

"Who the hell's leavin' their dishes around so I can trip! Aghh, it's too early for this, ughh—" A long yawn followed and from the subsequent sounds, it seemed Heisuke had begun to collect the items and rearrange them back on the tray.

He was in apparent need of some more self-sympathy as he did so however, since he went right back to talking to himself. In any case, it provided some insight to why he was so irascible, aside from it being too early an hour.

" _Drink up_ , Heisuke. Let's have _fun_ , Heisuke. It's only _one jug_ , Heisuke. Yeahhh, cause you _dumbasses_ didn't have kitchen duty today and I forgot."

Taking his leave, his voice became progressively distant the further his heavy footsteps carried him off. "Stupid Sano, stupid Shinpat-san, frickin' good-for-nothings. Just wait until it's their turn..."

At last, the complaints tapered back into silence and though I genuinely felt bad for the inconvenience, I could no longer suppress the amusement I'd kept at bay.

With a dramatic groan, Toshi threw an arm over his head and immediately slid it back down to the small space between us. His lashes fell and his brows pulled inward. "I _told_ you."

"You did," I agreed, willfully accepting the admonishment. "Sorry." Exhaling through my nose, I brushed the stray locks he'd disturbed out of his face and tucked them behind his exposed ear. "I got a bit preoccupied last night, though."

This earned me a tiny smile and Toshi's eyes opened again. He reached to clasp my hand, then drew it firmly against his chest. After a few moments, he pressed my palm even tighter to him and his mouth relaxed. "Ne, Kondo-sensei..."

Whenever the formal title came out, I knew he was about to start talking business. "Mm..."

"When you're a daimyo and surrounded by servants and admirers, no one will complain about you leaving your dishes out."

I pulled away just enough to turn the underside of my hand toward his so we could entangle our fingers as we did last night—and that was when they hit, the right combination of words which had for so long evaded me.

"Toshi-san..." I continued the playful etiquette and paused, falling serious and shifting my attention briefly to the latticing of our digits. "If I become a daimyo—"

" _When_ ," he interjected with a half growl.

" _When_ I become a daimyo," I corrected myself, apparently much to his liking, "I intend to take care of my own dishes." To that, he raised a brow. "But more importantly..." My thumb stroked against his. "I'll still be waking up next to you."

It was simple and plain, and completely lacking in the embellishments expected upon informing someone that they were the one. However, it was also a promise, and one I meant with everything I was.

Toshi stayed quiet and as the next seconds slipped away, we simply looked into each other's eyes while I wondered if I'd been wrong to feel such confidence after all. Then, the makings of a smile suddenly hinted on his lips and he slowly leaned across the futon.

I didn't stop him that time, didn't pause to brush his long hair out of the way when the kiss deepened, didn't say a damn thing when he shoved me on my back and straddled my hips.

But my body talked, and an excess of vows cascaded to unnecessarily reassure him the way his grasp had done the same for me last night.

 _I know you know. But I promise, I promise, I promise, I swear._

And when dawn broke into the first sparkle of sunlight at the horizon, I was sure that Toshi finally heard what I'd been trying to say all along.

I had no idea what forever was—but he and I were it.

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Thanks so much for reading!


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